Shota In Wonderland
by Military Mechanic
Summary: It was a gift, being able to come and meet Pegasus. At his home, no less! And, truly, Weevil is honoured for the invitation. He's also a little uneasy, and that oil painting keeps staring at him like it knows something that he doesn't. He pushes on though, because this is an opportunity that he cannot, will not, pass up.


A/N: Ahahaha, I just about died when I got this one. Fawnshipping, the ship of Pegasus and Weevil Underwood. xD Who on earth thought this was a good idea? Whatever, it's my job to write for it - as I'm currently undertaking a challenge to write for every known ship ever. Uh, feed-back would be great?

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The world was light and bright, with streaks of pastel covering everything in a soothing blanket. It was different from what one would imagine Pegasus J. Crawford's abode to look like but, at the same time, it seemed almost fitting.

After all, wasn't he supposed to be welcoming? It was, of course, and that was why Weevil didn't put much stock into it. The excitement bubbling in his chest at the prospect of meeting said man, well, that could have been another reason too.

The young duelist was walking through manor, bespectacled eyes taking in the ornate decorations of the hallway. Everything was done up in soft tones of blue and yellow and green, with white walls that seemed more soft than cold, and a plush red carpet lining the middle of the floor. There were portaits lining the wall and, at one point, Weevil paused to get a closer look at one.

It was an oil painting of a Toon Rabbit though the art was bizzare, to say the least. It seemed more humanoid than monster, with shapely hips and pale blue dress painted on it. A white apron hung over its front and it's head was cocked to the side, green eyes staring out at him, speaking to him; but the words got lost between ink and reality, forming little more than some desperate emotion or another.

A warning, perhaps.

A message, maybe.

A plea, more likely, but for what Weevil couldn't tell.

Then there was a large hand resting on his shoulder, fingers curling into the soft fabric of his coat. Weevil jerked, spinning around with wide eyes and an open mouth, only to find himself face to face with a smiling Pegasus.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" the millionare asked, and he motioned one hand towards the portrait rather than point out Weevil's obvious surprise. "An acquaintance of mine gave it to me as a gift, several years ago. He said that it's based off an American book about a young girl named Alice."

"O-oh, really?" said Weevil, and then he found himself yelling internally for sounding so _simple_ and stuttering. For God's sake, when did he ever stutter like that?!

"Mhmm." Pegasus gave a nod, still looking over the portrait. Then his hand was back on Weevil's shoulder and he was guiding the much younger duelist down the hall, towards that room that he had set aside specifically for today.

It was modeled after that portrait actually, which he found rather amusing.

The room was wild and insane, but still light, very light, and welcoming. A large, misshappen window lined one wall but it looked out on nothing. A sheet of bricks, colored in shades of bright green and blue and red and orange, lined the outside of it. The lamps were made to resemble strange plants and cast an almost yellow glow over the room, which was filled with all manners of eccentricities.

"This,' said Pegasus, waving his free-hand about the room. 'is my Wonderland room. Rather becoming, isn't it?"

"Uh, yeah, I guess." answered Weevil, giving the checkered print floor a dubious look. Then he caught himself, realized what he said and who he said it too, and found himself frantically back pedaling. "I mean, I can't recall ever seeing anything like it before."

"You wouldn't have." assued Pegasus, moving into the room and guiding Weevil along with him. "It was customed built, just for me."

Suddenly, Weevil found that he was sitting down on an over-stuffed pastel couch, with Pegasus sitting across from him. The older man had one leg crossed over the other, face twisted up into a pleasent smile, and asking something.

Without thinking, Weevil answered and time passed and he found himself with a warm hand around his shoulder first. Then one sliding down his back, sinking lower, ever lower, until a hand was cupping his ass. He remembered yelping and blushing and saying something, a protest maybe, or just something confused, and Pegasus just smiled at him some more.

It was his reward, according to the other man, for winning the tournament so long ago. Something that should have been delivered sooner but had been over-shadowed by Duel Kingdom.

Now, he wanted to apologize.

Weevil should have just said no, almost did, almost left. But almost didn't cut it and he found himself giving a slight, nervous nod. A hand passed over his cheek, sending shivers down his spine, and he found himself guided towards the older man's lush, red jacket - then the scene went completely black as ink spilled across paper, staining the once bright world until it was as dark as night. The lines that divided Weevil's hand from Pegasus's jacket became blurred, until they were just one swirl of murky green and dark red, streaks of black running through it.

"Shit!" muttered Pegasus, snatching up a hankerchief from the side of his desk. He dabbed the cream cloth against the page, vainly trying to save some part of his work but really doing nothing but smearing it more.

Hours had been spent here, bent over the desk in his bedroom as he worked on his latest piece of art. Now, it was all but ruined, with large smudges smattering the latest drawn page and seeping through to the paper beneath it. There was no saving it, and he let out a loud sigh when he realized that.

Pulling the hankerchief away, Pegasus looked down at his work, human eye narrowed in annoyance. The first few pages had most likely not been harmed but these, the ones that really mattered, where it finally started to go from Wonderland-esque to something more fitting of his usual works. Where the meek would have to put the doujin down and find something else to read, and everyone else would have to question their sanctity for continuing it.

Pursing his lips together, Pegasus reached to the very back of his desk and hit a button on the small moniter there. An electrical crackle filled the room, and then his assitant's voice was being manipulated into something mechanical as she asked him what he needed.

"Kiba, I need you to call my publisher. Tell him that I won't have 'A Shoto in Wonderland' finished until next week, at the earliest."


End file.
